


Painted Whore

by ScarletteStar1



Series: Sister Janet and Sister Grace. . . Stories of Convent Love [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angry Sex, Erotica, F/F, Fingering, Masturbation, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Vaginal Penetration, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27704587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Series: Sister Janet and Sister Grace. . . Stories of Convent Love [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122788
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	Painted Whore

Sister Grace knew she was going to be in deep trouble, but it was really too hard to resist.

She took a lipstick one of the ladies from church choir must have left in the bathroom. She secretly kept it with her all day, slipping her hand into her pocket at times just to run her fingers over the cool, metallic tube.

Just knowing it was there made her blush.

But she didn’t know exactly what a dirty secret it was until late that night when she was back in her cell in the convent. She stood before her mirror after Compline and the Great Silence commenced. In theory, she’d been cleansed of all sin while praying the Act of Contrition, and part of her felt a pang of guilt as she pulled her wimple and cap from her head and shook her hair over her shoulders.

Already ready to sin again.

She removed her cowl, scapular and robe, and stood before the mirror in her plain, white slip. For a moment, she simply examined herself and wondered if she were lovely, if she had any of the qualities that made the secular church ladies appealing.

Removing her glasses, she looked at her face and body from different angles, then put them back on. Turning to where her habit lay on her bed, she rifled through the slack carcass until she found the hidden lipstick, then returned to the mirror.

The crimson paint arose from its cavern with a little twist of her fingers. It shone, glossy and fecund, and smelled faintly of strawberry. Sister Grace’s legs trembled and heat coiled in her belly. She hesitated only a moment before bringing it to her face and swiping it on, first over her lower lip, and then two smaller dabs for the top. With a smack that seemed much louder, and far more lascivious in her quiet room than it actually was, she blotted her lips together and examined her efforts. Satisfied, she dabbed a tiny amount on her finger and swiped it over her cheekbones to give them a bit of color and definition. She was no longer Sister Grace. She was Cate. 

She set the tube on the table beneath the mirror and took off her glasses. She felt changed somehow. Electricity vibrated through her. She wondered if girls felt like this when they got dolled up, or if she was somehow different. While she wondered this, her fingers found their way down, inched up her slip, and pressed in between her legs. She found herself slippery, easy to glide her fingers over herself the way Sister Janet liked to. Would it even be possible to make herself feel that way on her own? She brought her other hand to her breast and pinched her nipple, her breath quickening as she moved her fingers.

The knock at her door jolted her to her senses, but she didn’t have time to completely move her hands, let alone wipe her face clean of the makeup before Sister Janet entered. “I’ve come to say goodnight,” Sister Janet whispered prior to fully realizing what was happening, and then, “Oh, Sister Grace!”

“Sister?” Her voice was timid but incredulous. “When you come to my cell at night we are not as sisters, Isobel.” She used Sister Janet's birth name, as they were want to do when alone together at night.

“What have you done?”

“It’s just a bit of lipstick,” Cate shrugged.

“Wipe it off. Now!” Isobel hissed, she dug into the pockets of her bathrobe in search of a handkerchief, found one, and threw it at Cate. Cate caught it and held it against her chest, looked at it as if considering whether or not to stain it with the scarlet rouge.

“What? You’re angry? With me? Because of this?”

“I- I can’t even look at you,” Isobel said and turned with arms crossed. “It’s shocking.”

“Bel, surely after what we’ve shared a little lipstick isn’t going to fund my one way ticket to the Devil. I was simply curious. That’s all,” she approached her elder companion and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Curious what it would be like to be the Painted Whore?” Isobel muttered and shrugged Cate's hand off.

“Oh, I’ve never known you to be cruel, but I must admit that stings.” Cate said with a pathetic sniffle.

Isobel turned to face Cate, her face flushed with rage. “I don’t mean to be cruel. It’s just, well, I don’t even know what to say to you right now, or who you even are!”

“I’m just me. I’m the same person I was an hour ago.”

“I think not!” Isobel splayed her fingers and held them in front of her. “Is this what you want? To be someone different? To leave and look this way on the street?”

“No. I told you, I was only curious. I won’t do it again, I promise. If I’d had any notion of your reaction, I would never have done it in the first place. I’m sorry I’ve upset you.” She approached Isobel timidly and tugged at her sleeve. “Is that what you’re scared of? That I will leave you? You know I won't, Bel.”

Isobel stood to her full height, practically towered over Cate. She grabbed Cate’s wrist, the hand of which still held the hankie, and she held it rather tightly. Her nostrils flared as she said, “Are you scared?”

Cate looked at her boldly. One might have said even haughtily. “Of you? No. You’re not my mother, Isobel and you’re not even my Mother Superior. But you are holding my wrist rather tightly. I will go and wash my face so as not to soil your handkerchief. I won’t blame you if you leave my room before I’m back.”

A tense moment passed between them.

“I- I don’t want to leave,” Isobel said and stepped into Cate’s space. She backed the petite woman toward her mattress. She loosened her grip on her wrist and brought her other hand to Cate’s face. With her thumb, she smeared at her lips, and smudged the lipstick over her chin. She used her fingers to open Cate’s mouth slightly and insistently, but was gentle about it. She rubbed the inside of her lower lip, where it was wet and silky, with her thumb. Cate tasted the fruity flavor of the gloss. Isobel thrust her index and middle finger in Shelagh’s mouth, and brought her face very close. She said, “No, I don’t want to leave.” Cate smelled the mint of Isobel’s toothpaste mingled with the berry of smeared lipstick.

“What _do_ you want then,” her heart raced.

“I want to devour you,” Isobel said and brought both of her hands behind Cate’s neck so she could bend her back and take her mouth fully in a deep and demanding kiss. With her wrist suddenly freed, Cate was able to throw her arms around Isobel and kiss her in return. After a moment of pawing at her breasts through the thick, blue robe, Cate tore at the tie holding her robe closed. “Oh Catie,” Isobel moaned against her neck and pushed her to sit on the edge of the bed. She knelt before her, parted her legs and rucked up her slip. Before Cate even knew what was happening, Isobel was peeling her drawers to her ankles, and biting the insides of her thighs with a passion she’d never seen.

Cate squirmed beneath her mouth. “You’ll bruise me,” she whispered, but pressed her body harder into Isobel’s kisses.

Isobel did not waste a single moment in her foresworn task. With her fingers, she parted Cate’s folds and licked a long stripe through her. “Oh, you are wanton,” she murmured as she tasted her arousal and felt the young woman tremble beneath her mouth. Again and again, she lapped the dripping slit until Cate fell backward on her bed and bit her pillow so as not to cry out.

Isobel found Cate’s clitoris easily, as it was completely engorged and begging for attention. Putting her lips around it, she sucked it rather hard as she slid a finger into Cate’s tight, private space. It was rough and sudden, and it hurt a little, but it also felt amazingly good and Cate whimpered. The sensation of being filled by Isobel was beyond anything she’d imagined possible. She lifted her head from the bed to see Isobel kissing and sucking her and curling her finger deep inside her. Clutching Isobel’s head, pulling off her cap, tugging her hair, and trying desperately to get her attention, she gasped, “Another, another finger, pleeeaaassseee?”

Isobel knit her brows together in a feeling Cate couldn’t read, and wasn’t really interested in reading at that moment because she was in fact granted another finger. Cate cried out at the sensation of feeling something where nothing had ever been, of feeling someone where no one had ever touched. It was beautiful and hard and soft all at once as Isobel twisted her fingers and Cate clenched her inner walls around them as if she would never let them go.

She quickly got close, desperately close, as Isobel worked her tongue over her, getting her so near the edge. But just as she was about to tumble over, Isobel stopped kissing her. She did not remove her fingers, but joined Cate on the bed. “I feel how close you are, Darling Girl. You are aren’t you?”

“Ye- yessss!”

“Touch yourself like you were when I first came in. Let me see it,” Isobel whispered in Cate’s ear with a tender kiss on her cheek. Cate’s eyes snapped open in surprise and she looked to see if Isobel was still angry, but she did not seem so, only curious and possibly quite aroused herself. Isobel gave a nod of encouragement, and Cate worked her fingers down between her legs. As Cate circled her own bud, Isobel found the rhythm with the fingers inside and worked them.

“Oh, Bel, it’s so nice feeling you inside me,” she panted softly and mashed her face against Isobel’s breasts, biting them through the material of her nightdress as she began to climax. Isobel managed to find her lips and absorb her mouth in a lusty kiss which served the dual purposes of reassuring Cate as she came, and also drowning her noisy yelps of pleasure. It took almost nothing for Cate to stroke Isobel into a stunning climax, through which they kissed the entire time.

“You’ve never done those things to me before,” Cate mouthed against Isobel’s jaw as they lay in one another’s arms after.

“You’ve never worn lipstick before,” Isobel countered.

“Fair enough,” Cate laced her fingers into Isobel’s hair and gave it a gentle tug.

“You’re so beautiful it frightens me,” Isobel whispered.

“Well you could have said that instead of calling me a painted whore,” Cate tutted.

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“No, Isobel, I cannot forgive you,” Cate said and propped up on her elbow to gaze down on her lover. “Because I cannot forgive where there has been no wrong. I shocked you and you were worried. And I'd be lying if I didn't admit it made me feel rather an exotic sort of way when you did call me that.”

“You’re too good to me, Sweetness,” Isobel sighed in the crook of her neck and wove her arm a bit more tightly around her waist. “But I was wrong to let my fear collude with anger toward you.”

“I’d say it worked out in my favor in the end,” Cate giggled. “Although I still need to go wash my face and dispose of this lipstick.”

“Mmmmh, not just yet. I don’t want to let you go,” Isobel murmured. “And, my Dearest Love?”

“Yes?”

“Keep the lipstick.” Her voice was husky. “We might revisit it at another time.”

“Oh, well then,” Cate gasped.

Cate must have dozed. When she woke some time later, Isobel had taken her leave. It was still dark and Cate fell back to sleep until the bell rang for Lauds. As she sat and stretched, she found a lurid, crimson smear across her pillowcase. Rather than remove it and put it in the wash, Cate took it off, folded it, and put it in the back of her closet as some sort of talisman, or reminder of yet another first.


End file.
